


the acknowledgement of my truest self

by deathhaul



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Accidentally transferred wills repression onto hannibal lol, Dark Will Graham, First Kiss, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Professor Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham Knows, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, he will get there i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29454396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathhaul/pseuds/deathhaul
Summary: "If anyone could understand him, it would be Will Graham. Hannibal had to get close to him. And one dead FBI professor was the step towards doing so."Will never ends up working full time with Jack and instead stays as a professor. After meeting him once Hannibal realizes he may be the one person who could ever possibly understand and accept him.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m sorry for asking you to come in on such a short notice,” Jack Crawford tells Hannibal Lecter, who is walking beside him. “None of the other psychiatrists on call were available.”

“Do not apologize, I am glad to offer any help that I can.” Hannibal follows Jack into his office, scanning the room quickly when he enters. He is met with some familiar faces, mainly those he calculatedly bumps into inside the lab, and one he hasn’t seen before. Hannibal has been consulting on and off with the FBI for a couple months now, helping with their profiles and stepping into the mind of the killer. Something he is just perfect at. He flashes Bev a smile as she hands him a folder.

“The killer is escalating,” she informs him. “5 murders within 3 days.” Hannibal flips through the file, looking at the crime scene photos. The work isn’t his, but he already knew that. He doesn’t even want to call it work, it is violent and hateful. He flips through photos of mutilated women, discarded like trash.

“There must be a cause for the escalation. The killer could be changing their pattern out of fear of capture or is losing themselves inside their own madness.” Hannibal remarks. “Any suspects?”

“None, not yet anyway.” Jack says as he sits behind his desk, picking up another picture. “Something must have happened to escalate his pattern.”

“Him?” Hannibal questions as he sits in the chair across from Jack’s desk, seated beside the lone stranger in the room. He smells of dogs and the open wilderness, _curious_.

“Of course it’s a dude.” Zeller interjects. “There is an obvious hatred for the women killed, many were found near nightclubs. A man is killing women who won’t sleep with him.” Hannibal focuses on the pictures as he places them in order on Jack’s desk, tuning out Zeller’s persistence as he stares at the pictures.

“There is hatred here, a type of seething hatred.” Hannibal picks up a picture. “Do you have a magnifying glass?” He asks Jack before continuing. “But it may not be a hatred from denial, there was no sexual assault or any signs of attempted assault. Which would normally be the case if the motive was sexual. Sexuality is the target of the anger, no doubt, but not due to the lack of willingness to have sex.” Hannibal takes the magnifying glass Jack hands him and holds it close to one of the pictures, and then another, then another. “All the women seem to be wearing cross necklaces.”

“They were religious, so what?” Zeller asks, clearly challenged. Hannibal hands one photo to Jack, along with the magnifying glass.

“Take note for her jewelry.” Jack does before looking back up to Hannibal. “Besides the cross necklace the rest of the jewelry is silver.” Jack nods along as he listens to Hannibal. “The female patients I have that wear jewelry do not mix metals, and not in a way this obvious.”

“You wouldn’t wear a black belt with brown shoes.” The stranger beside him mutters behind his coffee, Jack flashes his eyes to him before looking back to Hannibal.

“I believe the killer is a woman, highly and strictly Christian.” Hannibal can feel eyes on him, interested and captivated eyes- the eyes of the man beside him. “She is targeting these women for their sexuality, or the way they present themselves. Then killing the ones she views as sexually active before marriage, killing them for their sins. Then putting the religious symbol on the corpses hoping to resolve them of any of their sins.” Jack processes the information before nodding.

“Beverly, see if the crime scenes are in the vicinity of a church or religious group and check the footage of the nightclubs again. If this killer is a woman she could have easily led the women outside and got them alone.” Bev nods as she grabs a file and exits the room. “That should be all for now, rest of you go get work done.” Jack shoos the lesser agents away as he cleans up his desk. “Not you, Will.”

Will, the man seated beside Hannibal, sighs and sinks back into his chair.

“You two haven’t been introduced, have you?” Hannibal shakes his head. “Dr. Lecter, this is Will Graham.”

“If you already had his assistance why did you require mine as well?” Hannibal asks, not offended or believing Jack to be wasting his time, simply curious.

“Because Will said basically what you just said, almost to the word. I wanted a second opinion.” Hannibal glances over at Will. “Will tends to take leaps others cannot explain, I wanted to see if someone could make the same leap. And I guess, Dr. Lecter, you can.”

“Are you an agent?” Will asks, his eyes fluttering over Hannibal’s face and never exactly meeting his eyes, like he is flirting with the notion of eye contact.

Hannibal shakes his head. “I am a psychiatrist, I assume you aren’t one either.

“I’m a professor.” Will says as he downs the rest of his coffee, he tosses the plastic cup into the trash and stands. He shrugs his coat on and leaves without another word.

“Sorry about him, he isn’t the best at being social.” Jack always mentioned there was a specific consultant he could never rope into a full time position, Hannibal assumes he just met him.“For both of you to come to the same conclusions you two must follow the same thought process.” Jack adds as Hannibal stands to leave as well, he sincerely hopes they do.

Months after his first, albeit short, meeting with Will the man has not left his head. Hannibal was able to make the large leap in logic because he knows how killers think, because he is one. Will can make same leap, maybe even better than Hannibal can. Will Graham is not a killer, that much Hannibal knows, but something dark and horrid lurks beneath the surface of his jittery exterior. And all Hannibal wants is to peel back those layers, poke and prod at his organs and sew him back up with a smile.

If anyone could catch him, it would be Will Graham. If anyone could understand him, it would be Will Graham. Hannibal had to get close to him. And one dead FBI professor was the step towards doing so.


	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal is packing up his things after his first day of classes, thinking about what lovely dinner he will make for himself. Hannibal turns off the lights and locks the door to the classroom before leaving. He slings his bag over his shoulder as he rounds the corner towards where the professor's offices are located, quite looking forward to finding more about the man whose job he stole.

He removes the keys from his coat pocket and beings to unlock the office door when a voice catches him by surprise.

“Dr. Lecter?” The voice belongs to Will, Hannibal swallows his smile fully before turning around to face him. Will looks more put together; a dark grey suit jacket covers a blue flannel with a matching grey tie. Will’s eyes are narrowed inquisitively behind his glasses before he notices the name beside the door Hannibal was opening. “Oh. You’re Mr. Carson’s replacement.”

“For now, yes.” Hannibal nods, standing in Will’s presence makes him feel warm.

“For now?” Will repeats with a chuckle. “Already despise teaching?” He leans against his doorframe, giving Hannibal a quick chance to scan his body up and down.

“Not at all. The classes are anatomy based, which I have knowledge in.” Will’s eyebrow quirks upward. “I was a surgeon before a psychiatrist.” He pushes his glasses higher on his nose as he nods along, his eyes still quick moving and unable to make full eye contact. But every so often their eyes will truly meet for a second, and it’s electric when they do. “The students are quite helpful, it will take me a bit to get used to lecturing.” The lies roll so easily off his tongue. “Other than that, I don’t mind. Actually, I was planning to get a cup of coffee, would you care to join me?” Hannibal steps into his office for a second to lay his bag on the desk before walking out again. “My treat.”

The two men end up closing their classroom doors at the same time. “The amount of papers to grade on my desk would hate me if I turned you down.”

“I do not mean to intrude, but I would be willing to offer a hand to help you grade your papers.” Will beings to protest and Hannibal cuts him off. “As a surgeons assistant I spent many sleepless nights over paperwork, I understand how tiresome it gets.”

“I’ll pay for the coffee then, I can’t ask for both.” Will says after a beat of silence before he disappears back into his classroom and later emerges with a stack of papers. “Thank you, Dr. Lecter.”

“Please, call me Hannibal.” Hannibal happily walks alongside him as they head to the cafeteria, pleased to be in the company of the man he has spent months fantasizing about.

* * *

The one cup of coffee turns to two, then three while the stack of ungraded papers slowly diminish.

“Thank you, again.” Will's voice cuts through the silence as he marks notations with a red pen. Hannibal lifts up his head with a smile as he continues, having mirrored Will’s grading technique over the process.

“I don’t see myself assigning many papers, if you ever would like an extra hand you know where to find me.” Hannibal finishes his last paper and sets it on the stack.

“I can’t ask you of that.” Will replies, he sets his pen down to rub the back of his neck. Hannibal takes advantage of his eyes slipping close to trail his own gaze along his arm, to his neck; he is reminded how hungry he is. He tears his eyes away to take a sip of his coffee, reminding himself to bring a thermos of his homemade coffee for next time, the cafeteria coffee is below his standard by a great deal

“And why not?” He asks, meeting Will’s eyes when he opens them. Will holds eye contact a little before fluttering his gaze away.

“I don’t know you well enough to ask that of you.” A smile flicks across Hannibal’s lips.

“And would you like it to stay that way?” Will’s eyebrows furrow at his question. “I am certain keeping people at bay is a trait you are well versed in.” A barley noticeable flush grows across his cheeks and his body language tenses slightly, preparing for his defense. “I apologize, it is often hard to leave the psychiatrist side of myself back at my office.”

“Well, if you can’t turn it off I can’t see us as being more then people who pass each other in the hallway.” Hannibal nods slowly to his response. He is ready and willing to conform to Will’s boundaries, while also wondering how far he could push them.

“You have an aversion to psychiatry.” Will chuckles a little, catching Hannibal by surprise, who mirrors his smile back to him.

“Therapy doesn’t work on me.” Will says, pausing to down the rest of his coffee. Hannibal stops himself from focusing on the movement of his throat as he swallows. Although, he does imagine the visual. “I know all the tricks.”

“Then you certainly have not been to the right psychiatrist.” Hannibal reaches into his suit jacket pocket and pulls out a business card, pausing to pick up his pen before handing it to Will. He crosses out the number listed and writes a different one. “I only check the number listed during business hours. Use this one if you ever need to reach me, even if it is to set up an appointment.” He hands the card to Will, who takes it with apprehension.

“I don’t mean to assume,” Will’s eyes flick over Hannibal’s suit. “But I don’t think I can afford the kind of therapy you offer.” He runs his thumb over the raised lettering of Hannibal’s business card, carefully avoiding the red ink.

“Who mentioned anything about therapy?” Hannibal asks with a subtle grin. “We can simply have conversations.”

“Conversations with your psychiatrist self in the room.” Will adds, still tracing the letters on the card slowly.

“Only half of it.”

“What would the other half be?” Will holds eye contact with him before carefully sliding the card in the pocket of his suit jacket. Hannibal has to suppress a smile.

“Anything you would want me to be.” Hannibal allows his smile to finally bleed to the surface and Will studies his face, looking for signs of a lie. Hannibal wonders what type of man Will would want him to be. Whatever it is, he will transform himself into it.


	3. Chapter 3

Progress with Will is slow, stripping down his protective layers and maneuvering past the walls he builds around himself is a hard task. A task Hannibal enjoys, it is slowly rivaling the enjoyment that draining the life from others brings him. Will has not shown up for a single session, therapy or otherwise. But their casual talks weave through the weeks just enough to keep Hannibal satisfied.

Hannibal smooths down his tie before stepping into the open doorway of Will’s office, knocking on the doorframe. Will is a jittery creature; he startles from his concentration but his defensive nature fades when he sees who made the commotion.

“My apologizes,” Hannibal says. “I didn’t want to intrude.”

“Well, next time intrude.” Will says as he rubs his face. Hannibal suppresses his joy, next time he surly will. He steps into Will’s office and quickly takes inventory of the room. For how frazzled Will can appear his office is quiet organized, almost methodically so. The only mess is the stack of papers and books on his desk, which Hannibal is sure he will clean up before leaving for the night. Will eyes the cooler that Hannibal has slung over his shoulder. “Did you bring organ samples for your class?” He jokes and Hannibal chuckles.

“Not at all. I brought an early dinner, for us.” Will’s eyebrows furrow at the word ‘us’. “You strike me as someone who considers coffee a meal.” Hannibal eyes the cup on his desk and then flashes his gaze to the coffee machine in his office.

“And I assume arguing with you, a doctor, about it would be fruitless?”

“You assume correctly, shall we?” Will smiles softly as he stands from his desk and pulls his suit jacket on.

“We shall.” Will repeats as he gathers his keys and they leave his office. Hannibal waits for Will to lock the door and then walks beside him down to the cafeteria. “Classes going well?” Will asks, over the weeks the small talk between them has gotten much easier, it almost has become natural.

“Quite well, I never envisioned myself as an educator before. But I believe the students enjoy my lectures, or at least pretend to.” Will smiles, gazing over at him as they walk. “I do worry some may not be grasping the full scope of what I am saying, though.”

“I think that’s common, most days I feel like I am talking to a wall.”

“I meant because of my accent.” Will laughs with a rare full smile and Hannibal drowns in the warmth. They walk into the cafeteria, which has stopped serving food but the seating remains open.

“You’re not that hard to understand, if you listen.” Will walks to a table and takes a seat, Hannibal opens the insulated cooler unpacks their dinners slowly. “Where are you from, anyway?” The room is empty besides for them and some of the lights are dim, it feels equally uncanny and intimate.

“Lithuania,” Hannibal replies as he uncovers one of the meals and places it before Will, along with a knife and fork. “However, I spent most of my life in Florence before moving to the States.” He says as he looks down at Will as he studies at the meal before him. Hannibal places his own meal and silverware on the table, sets the cooler on the floor, and takes his seat across from Will.

“Are you going to tell me what I’m about to eat?” Will asks as he picks up his knife and fork, a smile twitches on Hannibal’s lips.

“I’d rather you guess.” Will smiles a little in response while stabbing his fork into a piece of meat, he cuts a small slice and leads it to his mouth. Hannibal watches with baited breath as Will swallows down the first bite. “I normally serve wine with my meals, but I was unsure of your preference for alcohol.”

“I have about three fingers of whiskey, or more, before bed each night.” Will says between bites. “Not much of a wine drinker and whatever wine I’ve had is probably terrible to your standards.” Hannibal nods along to his words as he eats, still focused on watching Will usher human flesh into his mouth. “Drinking out a wine glass in here,“ Will gestures to the cafeteria. “would feel out of place.”

Hannibal chuckles and nods, he can’t help but agree.

After that the two resort to eating mainly in silence, Will enjoying his meal and Hannibal enjoying Will’s company. It is not long until Hannibal can hear Will’s fork scrape against the porcelain of his travel dishes.

“I assume you enjoyed your meal.”

“I did, thank you.” Will wipes his mouth on the cloth napkin Hannibal provided. “Still unsure about what I just ate. But it’s probably the best thing I’ve eaten in a while, so I don’t care either way.” A smile plays on the corners of Hannibal’s mouth as he watches Will, memorizing the way the fabric around him conforms to the movements of his body.

“Since you enjoyed this meal I'd love to have you for dinner at my home, if you would like.” Will gives a faint smile as he stands to help Hannibal pack up their dishes.

“I'd like that." Will hands Hannibal his dishes. "But I do feel like I am benefiting more from this then you are.” Hannibal shakes his head with a smile.

“You are nothing of the sort.” They walk side by side back to their offices, Hannibal brimming with hidden pride. “I enjoy providing meals for those who are important to me.” Will smiles over at Hannibal, a slight blush rising to his cheeks as he unlocks and opens his office door.

“Thank you, Dr.-“ Will pauses and clears his throat. “Thank you, Hannibal.” Hannibal glances at the papers on his desk as he watches Will walk to it.

“I assume you will be here a few hours more.” Will nods. “I could-“

“I don’t need any help.” Will says quickly, clearly a knee-jerk response. “Thank you for offering, though.” He stumbles through the last bit.

“Not used to others offering you assistance?” Hannibal asks, leaning against the open doorframe as Will settles back into his desk chair.

“I’m not used to accepting.” Will pulls on his glasses and Hannibal’s heart flutters as he nods to Will's confession. He is slowly pushing his way past Will’s already established boundaries and if he pushes too fast his slow progress will be for naught.

“Very well, I shall see you tomorrow. Have a good night.” Hannibal closes the door softly.

* * *

Hannibal stifles yawns when he is finally home later that night, his house feels more empty then it ever has been before. He slowly hand washes his dishes in the sink, listening to a soft opera piece playing from his speaker. He tries to imagine what Will’s home looks like and as much as he tries all he can see is his own, but with Will keeping him company. The oven beeps and Hannibal dries his hands off before sliding on his oven mitts to remove the small cheesecake he had been cooking.

Hannibal has been in the process of incorporating more human ingredients into his desserts, it’s a process of trial and error. Tonights try was a chocolate raspberry cheesecake with human blood, not his most creative dish but blood and chocolate pair nicely together.

He plates his dish and drizzles a blood raspberry sauce over it before uncorking and pouring himself a glass of wine that will match the flavor notes. He picks up his glass and plate, and heads into his dining room, which feels emptier as well. Hannibal sets them down and and returns back to his kitchen to grab silverware, he opens his silverware drawer but pauses.

He finds his gaze fall slowly onto the pile of silverware from Will’s and his dinner that he hasn’t washed yet.

Hannibal walks over to them slowly, finding the fork he gave Will. He had made sure to give Will the more expensive one, a small act of love Will would never notice. He picks up the fork and enters his dining room, trying to avoid what he would think of this act if a patient told him they partook in it. He sits at his dining room table, picks up his wine glass and imagines Will across from him, holding his own glass. Hannibal smiles softly, he inhales the scent of his wine and then takes a slow sip.

Hannibal picks up his fork, Will’s fork, and goes to stab a small bite of his dessert. He pauses again. Hannibal focuses on the fork before him, bringing it to his eye line to watch the metal catch slivers of the faint light in his dim dining room. His heightened sense of taste may, just may, be able to taste Will. _Pathetic_ , he finds himself thinking.

“Love is often a pathetic endeavor,” he counters to himself. He wants to taste Will in a way he has never wanted to taste anymore before, a way beyond portioned and wrapped meat in his freezer and even beyond the frenzy ripping of raw flesh from an alive victim. He doesn’t want Will’s tongue perfectly cooked and presented on his plate, but alive and warm inside his own mouth, allowing Will to taste him too. He swallows the salvia that has risen in his throat as he blinks away the visual of kissing Will, he hasn’t earned that fantasy yet.

Hannibal slowly brings the fork to his mouth. He runs his tongue over the metal, searching for a flavor note that he could place as ‘Will’. He finds none. Hannibal tries to push away the disappointment chewing at him as he pulls the fork away. He improperly stabs at his cheesecake and takes a bite. It tastes fine, just fine.

Even with a full stomach Hannibal goes to bed hungry that night.


End file.
